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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24558727">in light and shadow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/radialarch/pseuds/radialarch'>radialarch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Fódlan, M/M, Nude Modeling, Pre-Slash, Reconciliation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:27:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,023</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24558727</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/radialarch/pseuds/radialarch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dimitri changes poses. Now he has one knee drawn up, the muscle of his calf round and tight. The studio lights catch on the blond hair dusting his shin. It looks like it'd be soft to the touch, and Felix is pretty sure he's sweating, which is fucking ridiculous. Dimitri's not even the hottest model they've had. Probably. Felix's brain can't remember any examples right now.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>FE3H Kink Meme</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>in light and shadow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for a great <a href="https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=904156&amp;style=site#cmt904156">kinkmeme prompt</a> that asked for, and i quote:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>all i really want to see is Felix "I'm a professional" Hugo Fraldarius being reduced to a sweaty mess because of this big blond man who may or may not be his estranged best friend who grew up to become unbearably hot 😔</p>
</blockquote><p>and like, don't we all.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Felix does life drawing because he has two hours to kill before fencing on Wednesdays, and because when Sylvain first tried to get into the class Ingrid had called dibs on wrestling him out of the building, which left Felix unable to deliver explanations like "Sorry, my friend is a fucking idiot," and "No, actually, I don't draw." The instructor—Byleth, Felix knows now—had handed Felix pencil and paper and put him into a seat by the simple method of not letting Felix talk at all, and then there was a naked person in the room and it had seemed like cowardice to walk out.</p>
<p>The third reason is that Felix might have never drawn a thing in his life, but neither has anyone else in his goddess-damned family: not Glenn, not his revered ancestor Kyphon, and certainly not his father.</p>
<p>It's different, drawing, but it takes him out of his head the same way as an épée in his hand. He doesn't mean to like it, at first, before the part of him that hates mediocrity sinks its teeth into it, and then it just becomes a thing he does, a thing he works at.</p>
<p>"Tell me about the models," Sylvain still says with regularity, throwing an arm over Felix's shoulder and putting on the grin that Sylvain thinks is charming and Felix thinks is much worse than his normal smile. He's never deterred by Felix ducking out of his grasp, or the way Felix says, flatly, "I'm gay."</p>
<p>("Tell me about the male models, then," Sylvain always says. "Hey, it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. If we can get you laid, at least three—no, four people's lives would be better, and then you'll be thanking me."</p>
<p>It's usually at this point that Felix threatens Sylvain with bodily harm, which, according to Sylvain, proves his point.)</p>
<p>Which is to say, Felix Hugo Fraldarius is a man with a certain amount of professional pride, all of which has been rapidly going down the toilet since Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd walked into the studio and dropped trou ten minutes ago.</p>
<p>"Are you all right?" comes Byleth's voice in Felix's ear. "You're distracted today."</p>
<p><em>Distracted</em> is a word for it, sure. "Fine," he says through gritted teeth. He attempts to shade something, badly. Byleth appears to decide that this is a personal issue and moves on. A mercy, because Felix isn't sure that he could cobble together an explanation if he tried, but on the other hand, this leaves him alone and defenseless to stare at Dimitri's ass.</p>
<p>He and Dimitri used to be—friends would be the word, he supposes. Best friends, even. He chased after Dimitri in a way that Felix now, looking back, admits was extremely embarrassing and probably should have clued him in earlier about the gay thing. In return, Dimitri made him promise after promise that things would never change. That they'd always be friends, no matter what.</p>
<p>Then there was the gas leak at the embassy, and Glenn died, and Dimitri went away.</p>
<p>The Dimitri in his memories was never this built, though. Felix idly wonders if Dimitri still prefers the saber. Or maybe he gave that up the same time he gave up Felix. Felix, clinging to the past, while Dimitri let him go a long time ago.</p>
<p>Still—it's a nice fucking ass.</p>
<p><em>Seiros</em>, he needs to stop thinking about Dimitri. Bodies, he reminds himself. Abstract, not real. Light and shadow.</p>
<p>"Finish up," says Byleth above the clamor inside Felix's head. "Let's move on to quick poses."</p>
<p>The first one Dimitri does involves a half-twist, one arm raised over his head. It brings his face around so he can make eye contact with Felix, for the first time. There's a noticeable start as Dimitri recognizes him; his other hand curls tight around the edge of the dais.</p>
<p>And then he gives Felix a fucking smile and drops his eye. Just the one, because the other one's an absolute mess.</p>
<p>Ignatz is probably fascinated by the scarring. Maybe Felix would be, too, on an ordinary day. How to render that on paper: the brutal lines of it, the shadow it seems to cast over the entire face. It's a problem Felix can solve.</p>
<p>But the face is Dimitri's, changed as it is by the scars, and the smile's still familiar. That smile's the only thing Felix has down on paper, the lush curve of a mouth that Felix suddenly wants very badly to touch.</p>
<p>Byleth calls the time. Dimitri turns again, away from Felix, so Felix allows himself to exhale, shaky, and wipe his hand on his thigh. He's smearing graphite all over his jeans. It's warm in the studio, and Felix needs a drink.</p>
<p>Dimitri's back muscles, which Felix somehow manages to sketch out of sheer stubbornness, and then he's caught short by a pinkish scar that twists over Dimitri's hip. Skinnydipping at the height of summer, as they grew out of childhood into the awkwardness of their teens; the glimpses Felix used to pretend not to catch after practice, when Dimitri stepped out of his jacket with his shirt stuck to his torso with sweat, riding up to reveal an inch of skin above his sweats. The scar's new—he knows Dimitri's body.</p>
<p>Or: he <em>knew</em> Dimitri's body. Felix considers, madly, briefly, the merits of putting his mouth on that scar until he knows it again.</p>
<p>Dimitri changes poses. Now he has one knee drawn up, the muscle of his calf round and tight. The studio lights catch on the blond hair dusting his shin. It looks like it'd be soft to the touch, and Felix is pretty sure he's sweating, which is fucking ridiculous. Dimitri's not even the hottest model they've had. Probably. Felix's brain can't remember any examples right now.</p>
<p><em>Imagine how smug Sylvain would be,</em> Felix thinks in a desperate attempt to salvage the last of his dignity.</p>
<p>At the chime that marks the break, Felix is out the door like a shot. In the restroom, he washes his hands, presses his forehead to the cool surface of the mirror. It doesn't help. He's pink all the way to his ears, and in the fluorescent light his eyes are too bright, hectic.</p>
<p>Saints <em>damn</em> Dimitri. He <em>left</em>. What right does he have to crash back into Felix's life now, taller and broader and still wildly beautiful?</p>
<p>Dimitri, naturally, ambushes Felix the moment he walks back into the studio.</p>
<p>"Felix," he says. He's pulled on a robe, like he's a fucking professional. Pale, blue. Felix can still see the clean line of his collarbone. "I thought it might be you."</p>
<p>"You never wrote back," says Felix. The old, childish hurt uncurls in his chest, even though it's probably unfair. He'd already been coming unmoored when Rufus took Dimitri away. For a while he was convinced that Dimitri was dead, too.</p>
<p>His father still speaks to Glenn in his prayers. Felix had written to Dimitri, long, desperate letters with a near-religious fervor, and Dimitri had never once answered.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry," says Dimitri now, ducking his head, exactly the way Felix once wanted. "I was—I was unwell for a long time. And then, I suppose, I didn't think you'd want to hear from me."</p>
<p>Felix bites down his first reflexive response, and then the second. "What are you doing here?" he says in the most even tone he can manage. In Oghma, far from Fhirdiad; here, in the studio that feels small with Dimitri in it, close enough to touch.</p>
<p>"I work with the kids at Gaspard," says Dimitri. "The orphanage. And I've modeled here for a while, it's been—helpful for becoming less self-conscious."</p>
<p>"Are you fucking serious," Felix says. "You're—" He doesn't have the words. He gestures at Dimitri's body, furiously, and feels himself turning red again. There is no justice here. Dimitri is raising a puzzled eyebrow, attractively, and Felix will never be able to come to class again.</p>
<p>They start the second half. A longer pose, Dimitri laid out on his side with his head pillowed in his arms. At the juncture of his well-muscled thighs, there's a thatch of fair hair and an extremely nice dick. Soft. Still big, though. Some part of Felix's hindbrain is choosing to interpret this as a challenge; the rest of his brain wills down his own dick with the memory of the one time Felix accidentally walked into Ingrid's bedroom and caught a glimpse of her breasts. A supremely awkward situation all around, and he'd had to come out to her immediately after.</p>
<p>Better. Out of respect for the class and also rank cowardice, he focuses his eyes above the waist. Dimitri's eye is closed, and the rise and fall of his side with his breath is slow. He could be sleeping. Dimitri always was an easy sleeper. Whenever Felix slept over, he'd toss and turn, feeling like he was about to get swallowed up by the dark. He'd make himself look up into Dimitri's slack face, lit dimly by street light creeping in through the blinds, and breathe with Dimitri, in and out, until the terror eased in his chest and he fell, exhausted, into sleep.</p>
<p>The Dimitri that Felix puts to paper is subtly different than the Dimitri of his memories, even discounting the eye: cheekbones sharper, the hint of a frown between his brows. He grew up, Felix thinks, like a blow to his solar plexus. He grew up, and so did Felix, while they weren't watching each other.</p>
<p>He sketches the line of Dimitri's torso, shades in the details of his musculature. He has nice pecs. Small, tight nipples. There's another scar, jagged and silver, just below the line of his rib cage. That one, at least, Felix knows. Dimitri always shivered when Felix poked at it, flecked with sand under a burning sun. Maybe he still does. Maybe Felix could stroke a thumb along the scar, feel the tightening in his abs and his trembling breath under his hands.</p>
<p>Thighs. Shins. The dick is a lost cause, mostly smudge. Felix spends more time than he should on the curve of Dimitri's ankle, the curl of his toes, and admits, grimly, that he might have a problem when the shadow cradled by the sweep of Dimitri's instep is what makes his mouth go dry. He doesn't even <em>like</em> feet.</p>
<p>He loses the last five minutes to the frantic beat of his heart. The drawing is—whatever. He'll toss it. He's getting to his feet the moment Byleth calls time, the sketchpad shoved in his bag.</p>
<p>"Felix," says Dimitri. "Wait."</p>
<p>Dimitri's pulling on his clothes, blinking slowly. His hair is golden. Felix should have run when he had the chance. He still could.</p>
<p>"Saber or épée?" he finds himself asking instead. He settles his bag across his chest, a shield more than anything. "Do you even remember how to hold a sword?"</p>
<p>Dimitri pulls his shirt on and unsticks strands of hair from his temple. "Sure," he says. "Foil. It's what I do with the kids."</p>
<p>That means something. Felix tries to find <em>what</em> in the blue of Dimitri's eye. "I." He clears his throat, jerks his head toward the door. "Open practice, if you want to come. See if you can hold your own against someone your size. You can pick the weapon."</p>
<p>The curl of Dimitri's smile hooks somewhere right behind Felix's ribs. "Been a while since I picked up a saber," he says. "But it's probably the same for you."</p>
<p>The rest of the class is streaming out the door. Byleth will shut off the lights in a moment. "Yeah," Felix admits. He hasn't touched a saber since Dimitri left. But he can pick it back up. He's done it before. It's not harder than fucking <em>life drawing</em>.</p>
<p>"All right, then," says Dimitri, and gets off the dais. For all that he's changed, he still fits comfortably at Felix's side. "Saber it is. Take me there?"</p>
<p>It used to be that it was always Felix following Dimitri. This time, when they head out, Felix goes first.</p>
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